


rip 2 my youth

by leoxingx



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, agent au?, based on that one scene from the movie salt, not a happy ending i'm sorry it's more bittersweet perhaps?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoxingx/pseuds/leoxingx
Summary: In hindsight, a CIA agent and a criminal spy probably never should have dated anyone in the first place. Perhaps, it is by life’s dark humour that they were brought together.





	rip 2 my youth

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this from 12am to 5am (yes, i don't sleep) while listening to 'time' from the inception ost, great song to build the atmosphere // i apologise in advance if there are any grammar mistakes

The earpiece is spitting words into his ear — hushed urgent whispers calling for immediate action. Above him, the organs continue to scream, creating a cacophony of deafening notes. From where he’s situated, two floors underground, all Jaehyun hears is a muted groan, accompanied by the metronome that is his heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. It beats allegro and Jaehyun tries his best to will it to a moderato. The gun in his hand weighs heavy with responsibility.   
  
He scurries down the stairs, pushing the basement door open to be greeted with two unconscious officers. They lay in a pool of blood, still leaking from the wound in their chest. Jaehyun swallows thickly. He closes his eyes in a moment of silent prayer before he forces himself to move on. There was no time for emotions in his line of work.

He’s just about to turn the corner when an explosion tears through the walls nearby. He stabilises himself against the wall, taking a second to orientate himself. The sound tells him the explosion came from the right and it takes him another second to deduce its exact location. No time to wait for the dust to settle; another second ticks by before he pushes himself off the wall, feet taking him to where he needs to be. Blood is roaring in his ears now. He adjusts his grip on the gun, finger inching closer to the trigger. There’s the sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet as he runs through the final corridor — another sign he was on the right track. 

Then he hears it. A low whistle — so soft and quick one might think they had just imagined it. But Jaehyun knew better. Dread fills his veins like heavy lead, weighing his heart down as he rounds the corner. Cutting through the cloud of smoke that filled the room, the beam of his flashlight lands on the back of a figure, illuminating a circle of black leather. 

“Drop it!” His voice echoes throughs the room, reverberating off the brick walls. 

A quick flash of his flashlight reveals a figure sprawled across the pile of debris lying on the floor. Motionless. And even in the dim light, there’s no mistaking the dark rivulets of blood that continue to leak over the jagged pieces of rock. 

“Drop. The. Gun.” He grinds out between clenched teeth, levelling his gun at the figure’s chest area.

The gun slips from a gloved hand and it clatters to the ground. It comes to rest between them, barrel coincidentally pointed towards Jaehyun and Jaehyun finds himself sweating as he comes to term with the fact that he’s staring at the very gun used to kill the President.   
  
His eyes dart back to the figure when they start to turn around with their hands raised in the air, an act of open surrender — an act Jaehyun does not find comforting. And when they finally turn around and the beam of his flashlight lands right on the face of the guilty, Jaehyun realises that no matter how mentally prepared he thought he was, he could never truly prepare himself for the way his heart would drop. That no amount of self-preparation could stop his heart from _hurting_ as if he had been the one shot when met with the face of the man he loved. Or once loved — the way he liked to think when he was sobbing his heart out on his apartment floor. 

Kim Doyoung. Or at least that was the name he knew him by. Jaehyun had not been able to bring himself to read the case file that still sat on his coffee table. There were only so many lies he could take.

Gone was the innocent lilac purple hair that used to grace his head; in its place was hair dyed the darkest of blacks. The only similarity lied in the way it fell over his forehead, the ends of his fringe falling over his eyes. Jaehyun hated every cell of his body that itched to close the distance between them and brush it back behind his ears.  


“Why did you come?” 

Jaehyun startles at the tone of Doyoung’s voice. Confused, it takes him a moment to register it as a mixture of sadness and shock; helplessness. It is then he realises Doyoung’s eyes are shiny with tears. 

“I told you not to come.” 

Jaehyun suddenly thinks of the envelope he found in his mailbox a month back. A front row ticket to the orchestral concert headlined by a pianist he had listened to since he was a child. If he had gone, he would be sitting on the lush chairs of the concert hall, lost in a world of good music and childhood memories. Instead, he was standing in the basement of a cathedral, confronting the man he loved while the broken organs blared their own symphony in the background. Jaehyun almost wants to laugh at how sick and twisted reality was.   
  
“Shut up. It’s over now,” he snaps. 

“No,” Doyoung whispers with a shake of his head, “it’s not.” The action causes the well of tears collecting in his eyes to break and fat teardrops roll down his cheeks, looking like a string of pearls as they glint in the light. He steps down from the pile of debris, taking steps towards Jaehyun. 

“Don’t you dare come closer,” Jaehyun warns, the shake of his voice betraying the panic that rose in his throat. 

His warning goes unheeded and Doyoung continues to move. In an act of impluse, Jaehyun shifts his aim just a few inches up and fires a warning shot that whizzes right past Doyoung’s ear and buries itself in the brick wall of the cathedral. But Doyoung doesn’t even blink, glistening eyes continuing to bore holes into Jaehyun’s soul as he closes the distance between them. 

All the pent up emotion over the past month was gasoline that coated every inch of Jaehyun’s heart and Doyoung just lit it on fire. He wants to scream, wants to claw at him till his every question is answered, wants to dissect him until he knows who exactly he is. He opens his mouth to let the torrent of words flow free when the realisation hits him. It hit hims like a freight train, trampling the fire that burned within until it was nothing but glowing embers and he feels his breath go out of him in a rush. And when Doyoung notices it, his face crumples into an expression of utter devastation. 

Because like every symphony piece — after the climax, comes the finale. 

And Jaehyun has a front row seat. 

His arms go slack with disbelief and he hears his own gun clatter to the ground through the ringing in his ears. His legs finally give way and he slumps to his knees, feeling the bits of debris bite through the fabric of his pants. Doyoung falls to his knees in front of him and when he brings his shaking arms around to envelope Jaehyun, he lets him. He feels his collar turn wet as Doyoung buries his face into the crook of his neck. 

In hindsight, a CIA agent and a criminal spy probably never should have dated anyone in the first place. Perhaps, it is by life’s dark humour that they were brought together. 

And yet,

Jaehyun thinks of weekend mornings spent lazing in bed, bodies entwined under the warmth of the covers as they watched the dust dance in the rays of the rising sun.

He thinks of quick kisses over the table during the rare lunches they had whenever their schedules aligned, giggling like high schoolers with their foreheads pressed together.

He thinks of nights spent cuddling on the couch under the glow of the television, languid kisses and wandering hands that led to passion brought upon by the thrill of feeling skin against skin.

Jaehyun thinks that for all that it’s worth, even if everything he knows about Doyoung is fake, at least his feelings are genuine.

“I wish we could meet again in another life,” Doyoung whispers — a plea to the heavens.

With the knowledge that the next second could be his very last, Jaehyun throws his pride and dignity to the wind. He leans back just enough to look Doyoung in the eye, savours his beauty for the very last time before he captures Doyoung’s lips in a heated kiss. There’s the taste of salt and blood and the pain that comes from the mourning of lost years. The kiss deepens, fuelled by desperation and fear and a passion that can only be born from love. Jaehyun slips his tongue past soft lips and when their tongues meet, he feels heat explode over his skin.  


Then, he feels nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this short angsty drabble, it's my first time writing angst so gah i hope it evoked some kind of feeling...shoutout to my fellow masochistic angst lovers lmao 
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated ♡ once again, thank you so much for reading! :-)


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